


School Comes First

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Series: Hero to a Bond [3]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Before they become completely dysfunctional, Brother-Sister Relationships, Family Fluff, First Day of School, Gen, POV Female Character, Protective Siblings, at least Cass is trying alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: Cassandra Cain-Wayne is starting her first day at Gotham Academy.Against her express disapproval._+_Or, basically family fluff.





	1. To Be Read...

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I made more and tbh...  
> I have more planned so, I hope you like this little AU!

This wasn't what she wanted. In front of a large, overtly garnished mirror and in this scratchy uniform. Cass didn't understand why this came before utilizing what she was to help people, to actually fight a good fight, repay back what she'd wrought. It definitely shouldn't come first and she didn't know why Bruce was adamant about it. He knew the good she could do but he wouldn't allow it.

Bruce wanted Cassandra in the field but he refused to allow it in effect that it interfere with studies to communicate with the outside world. It was pointless, Cassandra could do good out there. What Bruce wanted Cass to participate in was wasted on her, it was never her objective or function. It lacked. "This is bullshit," Cass grunted, a vague mimic of Jason when he projected the emotion in her chest.

Frustration. It was frustration, bitter hot but trapped inward.

"You'll be goddamned fine," Jason trudged in, backpack thrown over a shoulder and huffed, "You're not walking into the Spanish inquisition." Cassandra didn't know what that was. Her scowl hardened, he pulled a face back, "Look, sorry. I mean, it's not going to kill you dead. You'll have them eating out your hand in a week and if not, then you could just knock them out until they do," Jason signified and shrugged.

But Cass shouldn't have to be there, at all.

Her reflection scowled back, all bottom lip jutted and smooth forehead and nose scrunched. Jason dumped his backpack, looked over her shoulder and grimaced, "Let me fix your tie, Cass." In answer, she shucked off his hand. His arching brows furrowed, "I'm just trying to help, Princess. You'd rather not have Mr. Tatum giving the dress code conduct lecture on your first hour."

There's a absent familiarity in that notion which indicated Jason did receive that lecture himself. If Gotham Academy was like that, then she definitely didn't want to be there. Maybe she should look after Jason. Except Jason was semi-qualified to guard himself, an entire city of innocent civilians wasn't.

Cass might've grumbly whined but Jason twisted her round, fiddled with Cassandra's long, ever-pointless tie, arched brows furrowed in thought and picked at the knot. For a few moments, Cass mouthed the words before, "Why Bruce do this?" Cassandra questioned.

"I don't know. Wants you to have a normal life, I guess. It's not that bad, seriously. I'm learning about the Earth right now, the atmosphere and wind cycles and pollution, it's actually pretty cool. And in English Lit we're reading Maniac Magee, which I've wanted to read for ages already," Jason's mouth twitched, blinked in excitement and shuffled a little in his shoulders, " _And._ There's a bunch of clubs, drama and debate and scouts and book reader's club; like a bunch.

"For everyone, you know, which is awesome. B doesn't want us in martial arts classes obviously but still, it's really cool," Jason grinned, head still ducked before he knotted Cassandra's tie off. His excitement dazzled bright. It was good to witness, relaxed the tension in her shoulders. Not that she agreed. Just, it couldn't be that awful if Jason preened in the question.

He reached for his backpack, threw Cass the Gotham Academy sweater from the highbacked chair, stretching out his shoulder. Two nights earlier, Jason tackled a larger assailant with enough force that it backfired. If she'd been there, Cass would've prevented it. Reading wasn't more important than that.

Besides, she could already read a little, proficiency would come in time, wouldn't it? If it didn't, then what did it matter? This wasn't the life destined for her and Bruce knew that. "You're thinking way too hard about this," Jason scoffed and shrugged, "You'll be fine. Think of it as…surveillance, you know, of social interactions or infiltration; that's important –" Jason brandished.

Somehow it helped, a ruffled indignation soothed and Cassandra's mouth twitched, before she swerved to encompass him in large embrace. He always stilled but delicately responded, settled into affection, fraction by fraction, and once the tension died Cass smooshed a kiss to his cheek. His laughter gargled, elbowed her off while he scrunched a fist over the offended area and answered the wicked smile.

 _I love you_ , his body thrummed. From the first second she'd found him, Cassandra had known he brimmed in love. It was unexpected to have it showcased towards herself and it felt…kind, for love to be reciprocated in love. Her brother was kind. "I will protect you," Cassandra declared.

This is the purpose, there'd be no dissuasion. Especially as Jason discomforted, really tried to hide it in a sharp bookbag on back movement. Her brow lowered. He flung a hand, "Don't read into me, Cass," Jason insisted, frustration evident. Now Cassandra only wanted to read the movements more.

It's not as if she can halt on it a whim anyway.

On his bookbag fingers flexed. He stepped forward, incessantly lowered. "I mean it, Cass. I don't want my little sister to stand in. It ain't anything I can't handle," he declared, mulish square in his jaw that meant he'd be really stubborn. He had become stubborner since Bruce showcased that trait, as well.

Learning from habits and likeness from exposure of a loved father.

That squashed a hurt bruise but she shook it off. This wasn't about Cassandra. And, she's plenty stubborn by herself. Her gaze averted, mouth tussled and Jason groaned, loud and frustrated. "No. I know you can hear me, Cass –" she pointedly located her larger bookbag, " – You're literally right in front me. Cass. Cass!"

The GA sweater was comfier, woolen and larger than it should be. Just as she liked it. Bruce must've found special. Her mouth quirked and Jason's frustration furrowed, spiked IN desperation. "Fine," his tanned forehead furrowed, "Fuck you. I don't need this –" and then he mumbled in words Cassandra didn't understand. On purpose, to shove her back.

 _He_ didn't understand why Cassandra insisted on this. _Because I love you_ , her body thrummed. Hopefully, one day Jason would read that.

From the door arch, Bruce furrowed: "Those boys aren't still bothering you. Are they?" His concern evident. Her brother recoiled and flustered, hands folded before it untangled and his fists clenched. His jaw worked and he breathed, hand to heart and then…he lied.

"Fuck," he breathed, "You scared me, Bruce. I thought Alfred ordered that bell for you, like three weeks back?" It was painful to watch because Cassandra knew how it'd shriek to a standstill and be abandoned, unattended to fester. Their adoptive father's sights narrowed and Jason sidelined, mulishly grumbled: "It's nothing I can't handle," he scoffed.

Bruce observed for calculation. Either he insists to intervene which'd lead to him being overbearing and an oppressive weight, or he didn't intervene and he had faith in Jason's abilities. That's what Bruce believed, at least.

Except…Jason wasn't their seventeen-year-old adoptive brother. He didn't have that confidence. Not yet. Perhaps Bruce tried to cultivate that. But, Jason was vulnerable. More than she'd ever read on Dick. Even when Bruce and Dick fought in barbed words and hostile impatience.

It shouldn't be like this. Their bodies betrayed love and pride. But it's their fear, that really spoke when Bruce arched a brow and chided. "Okay, Jason. But keep it clean," he said. Her brother snorted, freckles flustered and…

That's that.

In that pattern, a belief was being born and Cassandra hated it. Her people, and she'd do everything possible, and considered impossible, to keep them safe. Whether it be from themselves or each other.

If they can't read each other, Cassandra will do it for them. So, she pinched Jason's sweater – "Uh, Cass?" – and thumped into Bruce's chest. It is squished, cradled in the thick arms and softened, large hands but it's never hurt in Bruce's embrace. Jason needed to be reminded of that. Her brother steadily deflated, huffed breath in Bruce's formal shirt. "You're so weird," Jason mumbled.

Beneath their heads, their adoptive father's heart thumped and Cassandra balanced to find the steel blues far above. Bruce smiled, brow arched but it's bemused pride and affection that softened back. "I know," Cass murmured. Jason huffed and burrowed further.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo!  
> Yeah, I know this took forever and, yeah, my style has changed but this just the type of shite that happens with me sooooo  
> Yeah, this also isn't the end.  
> Enjoy :]

Her current … tutor was a tall, thin-backed, sweater-vested man. He was always slightly anxious. Probably due to how Cassandra had dislocated a former tutor's wrist when his body had signaled bad- _bad_ intentions. The school board weren't happy about it but, in the end, that tutor was arrested by a binder-full of evidence and Bruce had taken her out for cakes in huge ice creams cones.

That had been fun.

It had been three weeks since Cassandra had started school and she didn't …  hate it. It was strange being around children, especially without supervising adults present as they played, and everyone talked and there was a distance to everything Cassandra didn't altogether like, but it wasn't terrible. A fact which hadn't helped in her stone-faced complaints to Bruce about leaving the school.

Cassandra had silently dropped into Bruce's office. He hadn't lifted his head from files to say, "No." Her stone-face had wiggled, and Bruce laid the stylus down to observe. His form said affection and exhaustion and fond exasperation and also faint intrigue. Cassandra pointedly deposited her muffin, a special limited-edition Jason-baked muffin, on his desk. He stifled a chuckle, "I can't accept this," Bruce said.

Cassandra stepped back, declared it an exchange for no-school and would ignore all attempts to put it back in her hands. It's probably why Bruce stood, rounded the desk and crouched in front of her, demanded her attention with body warmth and a thick-jawed smile. He had hard bulk, like Cain, but he was much cuddlier and Cassandra liked that.

"I won't accept it, so I won't eat it; and then Jason will find out that one of the muffins he worked so hard on went uneaten," Bruce said. He was also _mean_. When it came to food her brother used and planned every crumb to ensure it wasn't wasted, and Cassandra pulled an exaggerated frown, all burrowed forehead and semi-jutted mouth.

"Cassie," Bruce sighed, "I know you don't believe school suits you. But you're so very young and there's more out there than you can imagine. I want you to be able to experience that, to know your options because one day, hopefully soon, you'll realize there's more to yourself than being a weapon."

Cassandra retracted the firmness of her stance, fist clenched and head ducked and shook. No. No. She wasn't allowed options, didn't want them, not after what she'd done, not after the terror and then nothing that'd she'd brought. That she was created for, not after she'd betrayed the only person in her world for being inadequate.

"Cass," Bruce touched her shoulder, faint, a reaffirmation of presence. His form bespoke comfort and she could take it, cuddle into it. Cain wasn't the only person in her world anymore but he had made her, crafted her into the perfect weapon, and she'd failed. She would fail Bruce's hands as well.

Her grumbled frown unintelligible, she took back the muffin, and silently stomped out the room beneath Bruce's ever-observant stare. He could do whatever he wanted, she didn't have to agree with it. Just usually she did.

Cassandra carefully deposited her muffin back into the special holder in kitchen, better to eat when she could enjoy it, and silently stomped back out. Her brother was half-tipped over on the couch, book shielded his face, faint murmurs as he sounded out words. Cassandra clambered over the back of the couch and promptly flopped onto his side.

Jason grunted, grumbled a little and wiggled so his elbow wasn't smooshed into either of their ribs, and turned the back with two semi-practiced flicks. Cassandra huffed loudly all over his shoulder and throat, and laid her head down, going boneless. His heartbeat was familiar, the warmth of his body more-so.

It was silent in the main longue, comfiest couches and thick curtains, a faint flick and crackle from the fire, and a fainter hum from the lamp haloing the couch they were on. The book dropped a little as Jason tried to turn a page, and murmured into the pillow, "You ok, Cass?"

Cass burrowed, dropped back into the slight space and cuddled her head into his back. She wanted to not-think and also fix this, but her fists wouldn't fix it, and she didn't know what to do with that.

He tried to look back and she curled herself smaller, so he wouldn't fall off and for the same reason she laid an arm around his ribs. "Cass," he said, "You literally scaring me. Do I gotta dish out some retribution?" Silence. "If you want a bigger barrier from everything you're better off with Bruce," he noted.

Cassandra pinched a rib. He huffed a flinch. Then, she consolingly patted his sternum, and she practically caught the blinding grin. "Yeah," he beamed, "I'm getting fat down there, Cass. It's squishy," he squished his stomach once, and wiggled to face her, teals still alight. His smile quieted but intrigue and glee hadn't, "This about school, isn't it?"

Cassandra expressed mulishness and Jason flickered scrutiny, quieted in secrets between them. "It's not another scum-shit, is it?" Cassandra frowned in negative, only a little over-dramatized. "You know Dad will let you in the field once you're settled, right," he said. He only ever called Bruce that in whispered breaths, like testing it for the grand reveal.

" _Why_?"

"Told you, Cass. He wants you to have a normal life –"

"No," Cassandra ceased and desisted.

Her brother pulled a face, "You think it's something else?"

"No," shook her head, stuffed choppy hair off, "Why school first? Not –" Cassandra brandished a fist. "Important too. You … fight, why – not me?" It had been nearly seven months since Bruce had found them, a month earlier Robin got to fly and Cassandra was still stuck in the cave, only having just started school after Alfred and Barbara had tried to supplement her educational skills for future tutors.

It all made her feel … broken.  It made her feel unsuited to anything but what David Cain had made her, and she wouldn't be that so –

There wasn't a point.

Jason teals flickered and he smiled, sheepishly and under-the-weather, "I don't know B's head like that, Cass. We'll find out," he shrugged and wrapped himself around her, she burrowed her head into his shoulder, fingers flexed into his back, and his chest lifted in breaths, alive and warm, and familiar. He pressed a kiss to her head, "I ain't leaving you, Cass," Like the idea was preposterous.  

Cassandra just burrowed her head deeper until her own hot breaths tingled back.

That had been yesterday. Today, bright and early, she was with her current tutor, the anxious man, and looking at squiggles on a blackboard. It was a private class for her 'special needs' as the other teachers proclaimed it. Jason pulled a face at the phrase and said 'Your head's just wired different, the fuck they excluding it as 'special'?'

Cassandra didn't know. Cassandra didn't care. Cassandra was wearing underwear. Wait, is that how that rhyme went. It sounded right, maybe? "Miss Cain-Wa-"

"Wayne," Cassandra corrected.

"Of course. What is this letter?" He tapped the blackboard. Barbara had realized Cassandra computed syllables better, but the alphabet was still important to learn, and while she had memorized the tune, she couldn't recognize them without remembering what came before or after. He tapped the blackboard again, and the white lines remained a squiggle.

The private class was empty apart from Cassandra and her tutor, the chairs emptied apart from the one she'd parked in, her lined paper interrupted by haphazard squiggles of attempted letters, and the damn blackboard remained unveiling. The white squiggle stayed.

Cassandra stood, abandoned her backpack and walked out the classroom. "Uh, Miss Wayne –" She didn't want to be here, so she wouldn't. Bruce could try to stop her but she wouldn't be stopped. Cassandra could do good out there, and she didn't have to listen to Bruce, she didn't have to stay with them –

Yes, she wanted her brother but he was safe and happy and settling in with Bruce. He loved school and he loved being Robin because he was allowed to be Robin, and Cassandra didn't fit.

Cassandra headed through high-arched halls, arched-windows splayed in Gotham Academy's swerving signa, and the marble floor made silent stomping difficult but it was also simple because that's what she was trained to do!

" – hey, come on, hey –"

Her brother's voice echoed, something kicked in it, and Cassandra brows furrowed, and traced the sounds, faint thumps and hisses of laughter. It was coming from the hall of Jason's locker, "I heard what Wayne wants with you."

Only love and happiness, Cassandra immediately supplied. Except, the voice implied bad- _bad_ intentions; and she knew her brother's fists would be clenched, held back and taut, as he considered options, held back by breaking habit, survival instincts and Bruce's approval.

The hall was emptied but the stairs into the courtyard with jarred open, a barred window unlocked to hear a dull thud. "You don't need to be such a know-it-all –" another voice hissed, and Jason had asked her not to intervene but she wouldn't leave it.

In a blink she had the talker held aloft in hand to throat, against a wall to make certain he understood her words. "Leave. Brother. Alone," Cassandra warned. There were four students, one swore and the one pinned froze, handgun to head, and the faint scuffle quieted.

Cassandra exaggerated her scowl, furrowed brows and thin-pressed mouth, and the boy in her hand nodded rapidly, no longer scrabbling at her hand. Cassandra leveled a bat-glare to each individual, except to her brother scuffed and kneeled where he'd been backed into a corner beside the staircase down and beneath the window, and released her hand without a second glance. "Go," she ordered, like the rich girls on the TV, when they had enough of plebeians.

Jason collected his books, stuffed them inside his backpack, with a scowl. Cassandra stood and watched, the irrational thrum in her blood uncertain where to ride, as her brother refused to look at her. He smoothed the page of his green biology book, shucked it into his backpack. "If I wanted to I couldá handled that,'" he said.

"You didn't." It was an accusation, but also a pointed-out fact that demanded an answer. He could have beat all of them if he'd wanted. If his form hadn't shrieked make-self-smaller, blend-in, and stranger-in-my-skin. "Bruce wouldn't –"

"He wouldn't want me to punch a prep-nosed snot in the teeth either, Cass." His tanned skin was dirtied, grass stains on the uniform he cherished so much, hands delicate as he tucked a ripped page back into a book and zipped up his backpack. He scrubbed a hand through his auburn-black curls, "Look, this ain't my turf and they know it. I'm walking into their den making a fucking shmuck of myself, not the other –"

"You belong," Cassandra insisted. It suited him so well. The ever-comfort, the ever-education, the strive to learn and excite, and be comfortable and happy suited him. He was made for this.

Jason scoffed and shook his head at that. "I'm a street-rat, Cass, gutter-trash. I learned to survive and run from a bullet before I could talk. I don't fit-in here, it's fucking fine –"

"No," Cassandra poked Jason's chest, "You fit."

His face spasmed too quickly to catch it all – denial was there, affection too, a brief hum of 'you loco' – "Okay, sure," Jason lied, and double-checked the courtyard for fallen books. Cassandra's face thinned. He huffed, "I'm going back to class. You should too."

Cassandra didn't do that but she followed Jason to class, then pointedly seated herself in his classes, and stared at the teachers who tried to remove her or question her existence. Her brother clomped his head between his hands. Then with jabber directed towards him, he quietly spoke with the teacher about how foolish an attempt to remove her would be: "… even Bruce can't get her to do something she doesn't want to do," he'd sheepishly shrug.

Except she hadn't wanted to go to school and she'd still done that. No more.

That evening, after ignoring all questions as to why she'd spent the day plastered to her brother's side, she sunk into the Cave before Bruce and Jason left for patrol, as usual. From beneath the cowl Bruce observed and partially narrowed, "You'll stay here, Cass." It wasn't a question. Cassandra lied and nodded.

"Bye Cass!" Jason chirped and flipped into the Batmobile.

In the resounding darkness Cassandra did as usual; kicked-out a dummy, her evening kata cycle, three training stimulations against different rogues, and a huddle of thuggish brutes, and her strength and flexibility exercises; though those last ones, she did half as usual, and then subsided up the stairs absently munching on the sandwiches Alfred laid out.

He was in the cave keeping a close watch on Batman and Robin, and Cassandra had been distinctly unassuming, so it was simple to grab the darkest and tightest clothes from her cupboard and creep out the window. Cassandra rode all the way to Gotham on their surviving bicycle after Cassandra had rocketed hers off the roof.

The darker parts were never silent is what Cassandra had learned, the scurrying of smooshed rats swallowed in malicious whispers and thick-footed walks and heels clicked and mint-fresh bubblegum popped and cars honked and rumbled and swerved onto pavements amidst yelps and rakish laughter and the smell of urine and sewage weighted heaviness and the powerful spicy sweat stench; it all sank beneath her skin.

But, with a little height, the humid breeze became ice which sunk into bones, and it was invigorating. Cassandra did not need Batman's approval.

000

Or, the disappointed stare. But, Cassandra might have needed his bulk. Behind Batman the imploded warehouse hissed and partied in the breeze, and Robin took one look at them and hissed as well. "Oh, Sis," Robin began.

"You lied," Batman warned. Yes, Cassandra had lied.

It was a first but Bruce and Jason did it all the time, besides this was a year of firsts: first adoption, first unmonitored bedroom, first game of Twister, first sentence, first ice cream cone of cake, first movie night, first time fighting crime since Batman had taken them home; a whole lot of firsts.

"You lied and you willingly put yourself in danger," Batman continued, throat gruff and grumbled, and was concerned and self-blamed and 'I knew it' and _disappointed_.

No! Cassandra did not need Batman's approval. Her arms crossed, tried to shake off the scolded child in her shoulders but it didn't work. Robin bravely stepped in, "Come on, B. You know she did good –" Robin fired. A firetruck whirred to a halt behind Cassandra, a trio stepped out, unwound a huge hose and blasted it at the flames.

Batman didn't even look.

"You're being real sexist, B," Robin pointed-out. It was willfully stepping into the line of fire when Cassandra had it handled, and yes it was sweet, but her heart pounded and it needed an outlet. She wanted a fight.

"I help," Cassandra declared.

Batman's lids narrowed and that concern shrieked before it blanketed, "Fall back," Batman ordered.

"But we got another hour –"

"We are falling back," Batman repeated and Robin grumbled, which flickered exasperation and affection, but did as he was told. Cassandra remained, feet firmly planted. Batman unveiled a hand, "We'll talk about this at home," he quietly said.

Cassandra did not take that hand, clambered the building's side by herself and fell into footfall beside Robin. In the Cave, Alfred tutted and bandaged the burns of her forearm and hand, it'd make writing difficult – good, they wouldn't force her to do it – and bestowed her a cold smoothie as the burn-cream stung and tingled.

It wasn't a bothersome ache but the smoothie was still good.

Bruce toweled his hair after his post-patrol shower and said: "You want to know why I won't allow you into the field." Cassandra's heart thundered back, and Bruce delicately skimmed the bandaged around her hand: "That's why."

Her brow furrowed, not even semi-dramatized because patrol sometimes meant being hurt, and Jason got hurt sometimes.

His hand was calloused, the med-bed creaked as he sat beside her, and he breathed. "Explain to me how you got this," Bruce asked, slow and gentle. Cassandra still didn't understand, so she did.

"Fire explode –" Cassandra shrugged, "Roll."

His smile was sad, further in the Cave Alfred's muted conversation with Jason hesitated. "You could have taken a smaller burn to your right leg but you picked this –" the smeared bandaged covered nearly her entire arm, " – why?"

Cassandra shrugged, "Better." It was like he knew the answer but wanted Cassandra to admit it, Cassandra always admitted it. It wasn't a big deal. It only made her a more valuable weapon in the field.

"Better than what?"

"Better than leg," Cassandra squished dirtied tights. To fight best she needed both legs, it was simple fighting with a hand tied behind her back but with a wounded foot, nah-uh. If it wouldn't hold her weight due to broken or burnt tendons or muscles or bones, then it was useless; so even if the pain was simple to ignore, she'd much rather have an upper limb wound than a lower limb wound. Cassandra waved an unwounded fist, " – have another," she said.

His heartbroken quivered and a large hand brushed knots from her hair, "Yes. But that is not the issue. You're perfect, Cassie, you always will be. But not just because of your ability to fight." Cassandra blinked, wide-eyed to catch the steel-blues soft and high above her own. His hands focused on untangling her ash-tied hair.

Cassandra tried to understand.

Bruce smiled, "Okay." His hand was warm, "Imagine if … Jason decides that his life's worth is to bake cupcakes, okay?" Cassandra frowned and nodded. B is so weird sometimes. "So, from then onward, all Jason ever does is bake cupcakes. He doesn't read, he doesn't train, he doesn't do his homework, he doesn't even cook with Alfred because all he does, is bake cupcakes." Jason would hate that.

"And, if anyone ever tried to distract him from baking cupcakes, he'd go over our heads and do it anyway. Even if his hands were burned and he's falling asleep at the oven," Bruce held her small hands, the bandage scrapped callouses. "You understand," he checked.

Her hands flexed, " … not same," Cassandra quietly said.

"You're not a weapon." It hurt her heart. His voice soft and frim. "You're my daughter. You're Jason and Dick's sister –" He mentioned Dick, this really was important. Her lids burned. "A weapon doesn't care who they're turned against. A weapon doesn't feel. Cassie –" Bruce admonished and held her cheek in a large and warm hand, " – your heart makes you perfect."

Cassandra shook her head, smuggled heated cheeks into his chest and held, as a hand rubbed her back and cradled her into a firm embrace. "You can do more than … baking cupcakes," Bruce soothed, and Cassandra huffed a laugh as Jason's weight stepped atop the med-bed, and shucked into Bruce's shoulder for the cuddle pile.

"You guys are so weird…" Jason mumbled. Cassandra laughed and her hands, wounded and unwounded, flexed as love sank into her skin. Weapons don't go to school and so the next day, Cassandra did.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHHOOOOO  
> next one actually coming soon, can u believe it?  
> also, it is canon that Jaybirb was bullied in preppy high school *mutter, mutter*

**Author's Note:**

> I just love ma little bat babies, how is it the mute member of this family has less communication issues than those two?  
> siblings, ugh. healthy father and children relationships, ugh. I don't even know why I write this stuff *throws hands in the air*


End file.
